Chapter 102: A Simple Willow Planting, Unexpectedly Forms Shade

“Hmph, this blade truly defies all expectations—it even managed to steal away the sacred relic of Yanlan Academy, the ‘Demon-Forging Black Iron’!” The old headmaster’s face was full of displeasure, as if he were bickering with someone. It was clear how vexed the old fellow was; he had hoped to use this opportunity to take advantage of these people, but never imagined that, inadvertently, the blade would discover a fragment of the relic. Even more heartbreaking, the Demon-Forging Black Iron was precisely the embodiment of that fragment.

This time, the old headmaster truly lost both his wife and his soldiers. If it had been ordinary black iron, he would have let it go, but the Demon-Forging Black Iron was no ordinary thing. Without it, Yanlan Academy would be plunged into dire straits! Yet now the relic had already fused of its own accord with the blade; there was simply no way to separate the two. It seemed the Academy was indeed doomed, just as the prophecies foretold.

“Listen to yourself—how can you call it ‘stolen’? It was the Demon-Forging Black Iron itself that flew out of the statue and into the blade!” Yan Xuesu could no longer stand by and quickly spoke up in Yushang’s defense. The old man might have been blaming the blade, but his words really accused Yushang. Still, it served him right—a schemer like him deserved some comeuppance.

“Exactly! Don’t make it sound like we plotted to steal it. And so what if it’s just a piece of black iron? You’ve been exploiting us for days and we haven’t complained like an old miser!” Lan Wu chimed in, equally indignant. This old man hardly seemed worthy of being a headmaster, fussing so much over a scrap of iron.

“You children understand nothing. The Demon-Forging Black Iron is no ordinary item, but a treasure coveted by all realms. The family scroll you saw earlier—it was transformed from the relic itself!” The old headmaster glared at them, then shouted. No wonder he was so uncharacteristically furious; the matter had far-reaching implications.

“So the blade has, indirectly, absorbed the family scroll, and now Yushang holds the Achilles’ heel of every clan in his hand?” Xun Mishuang tried to keep her voice steady but couldn’t hide the wild joy on her face. Earlier, she’d worried about how to borrow the scroll to discern every clan’s weakness, so Leng Huaiyi could strike them down in competition and keep himself safe. Now, her worries were over; she need only borrow the blade from Yushang afterward, and fate itself seemed to favor them. It was destined they’d survive the trial by the slimmest margin. A woman in love, indeed, could see nothing else—her lover’s fate was all that mattered, not the Academy’s survival. If the old man knew her thoughts, he’d surely be furious!

“Then, haven’t we, in a way, jeopardized the Academy? If word gets out that the scroll has leaked, others will seize the chance to target Yanlan Academy. It’ll mean a bloody massacre!” Leng Huaiyi looked uneasy, his face troubled. The truth would come out sooner or later, and not only would the Academy suffer, but Yushang, who held the scroll, would be implicated as well.

“If that’s the case, Yanlan Academy is in grave danger. What should we do?” Meng Youyuan asked anxiously, though in truth she didn’t care much for the Academy—it was merely a place to stay, and she was leaving soon anyway. What she truly cared about was her grandfather, the headmaster. She knew how much of his heart he’d poured into this place, and if it were lost, the blow would be devastating. Though outwardly sly and cunning, even more so than a fox, in her eyes her grandfather was fragile and pitiable.

She feared that if the Academy were destroyed, her grandfather’s spirit would be broken as well. She knew how much he’d invested in this place, and losing it would be a blow he might never recover from, especially at his age. Though he seemed endlessly crafty, he was, to her, heartbreakingly vulnerable.

“What else can we do? The Demon-Forging Black Iron has already fused with the blade—there’s no way to retrieve it, unless you’d destroy the blade for the sake of a scroll. Even if we agreed, who among us has the power to reduce it to scrap?” Xiao Yin said dismissively. He had a point—the blade was so powerful that only one whose cultivation rivaled an ancient deity could hope to move it.

“Such an extraordinary artifact should never be destroyed, but Yanlan Academy cannot be sacrificed either. Yushang, you’re the cleverest and bravest among us. What do you suggest?” Lan Bingxian was at a loss and could only turn to Yushang, who had been silent throughout. It was up to him, the one at the center of it all, to find a way out.

“Yes, Yushang, this is the critical moment; we need you. Don’t just stand there in silence, say something!” Yin Boxuan, always impatient, couldn’t help but shout when Yushang remained quiet. Though he felt little affection for this place—sometimes likening it to a cage—he still felt an inexplicable emptiness at the thought of its imminent destruction.

“What can I do? We’ll keep it secret as long as we can. If the truth does get out and others come here looking to make trouble, I won’t stand idly by. Since this disaster befell the Academy because of me, I’ll stand with you all and make sure those schemers never return!” As Yushang spoke, everyone felt his kingly bearing flare into life.

But as he finished and looked at the old headmaster, he caught sight of a sly, satisfied grin. Shouldn’t the old man be furious at such a turn? Why was he smiling? Suddenly, Yushang had the sense he’d been played; that smile revealed everything. The old fox was ruthless indeed—nothing was beneath him if it advanced his aims.

“Don’t worry, Headmaster. Since Yushang has spoken, we’ll see this through. No matter how great the trouble, we’ll clean up the mess together, and the Academy won’t suffer alone,” Yu Xiaoran echoed, following Yushang’s lead. This was a problem they’d all created together; it wouldn’t be right for Yushang to bear it alone. They would stand together as true brothers.

“That’s right. As disciples of Yanlan Academy, we won’t just stand by. Rest assured and keep being our headmaster. Whatever happens, we’ll take responsibility. At worst, we’ll go down fighting—we won’t let your life’s work be destroyed!” As she spoke, Meng Youyuan couldn’t help but rest her hand gently on the old man’s shoulder, patting him in comfort.

The old headmaster looked at her in surprise but did not push her away. In that moment, it seemed the bond between them grew closer. The others took comfort in this scene—at last, blood ties were winning out, and there would be no more bitter feuding. A calm, peaceful relationship was a welcome change.

“Well, it’s come to this. I’ll trust you all—just this once. But if you break your word, don’t blame me for what I’ll do!” The old headmaster, who had just been gentle, suddenly turned fierce again, catching Meng Youyuan off guard so that she instinctively withdrew her hand and stepped back to keep her distance. The others all cursed him silently—he had to ruin a perfectly good moment.

“Don’t worry,” Yushang said quietly, “I keep my word. Even if I’m unwilling, I’ll repay what I owe you.” He fell silent, but a question gnawed at him—was this truly the end? Why hadn’t the one who opposed them made a move? The ease of it all left him uneasy. He sensed it was only the calm before the storm—a tranquil yet ominous prelude.

“All right, that’s settled. Let’s go back,” Yin Boxuan announced cheerfully. The matter resolved, he was eager for rest and a good dream—enough of this gloomy, dangerous place. Best to leave before something else went awry.

“Yes, it’s time to go,” Xun Mishuang said softly, her voice tinged with reluctance. She only felt this way because of Leng Huaiyi—leaving the treasury meant parting with him once more. They would return to the ordered, conventional lives demanded by their elders, never again able to enjoy such warmth and happiness. They could only gaze at each other from afar, never to be together.

“You always have something to say—don’t you realize that leaving here is also a kind of farewell?” Yan Xuesu said sadly to Xun Mishuang, whose spirits were low. Fate truly toyed with people—it brought them together only to cruelly separate them. Was love destined to draw heaven’s envy, while indifference earned its pity? She did not understand, nor did she want to.

“What do you mean? Even if I didn’t want to go, Yushang and Xiao Yin need to return. Their bodies are weak, and time is short—they must heal, or we’ll lose our edge in the competition!” Yin Boxuan knew that leaving the treasury would bring joy to some and sorrow to others, but the greater good had to come first. They couldn’t hide away here forever.

“All right, enough bickering. Master, please take us out,” Leng Huaiyi said, glancing at Xun Mishuang with helplessness. Did he truly wish to leave? Even if they lingered, what difference would it make? What must come would come; what must be faced, would be faced. In the end, they would each go their separate ways, unable to stay together. Only these memories would remain—beautiful and profound.

The old headmaster did not reply, only grunted softly. He, too, understood the unspoken truths, hence his displeasure. Was his heart truly so cold that even the love of a pair of star-crossed youths could not warm it? Why must one give something up to protect another? Perhaps this was what people called fairness—but what you gain is never only what you desire; it comes with the pain of loss. For every reward, a price must be paid, and only after letting go does one realize that what you longed for might not bring happiness, while what you gave up was the reason you could go on living.